Tenderness in a Poem
by TrulyTheOne
Summary: 7th year-Harry Potter has always had a knack for writing poetry. It has kept him alive. No one knows this side of Harry, except Draco Malfoy who accidentally finds one of Harry’s poems. WARNING! HP/DM slash. Emo to begin, ends differently.
1. Beginnings

**Tenderness in a Poem**

Summary: Harry Potter has always had a knack for writing poetry. It has kept him steps away from becoming suicidal and occupied his mind when he was upset. But no one knows this side of Harry, except Draco Malfoy who accidentally finds one of Harry's favorite poems.

A/N: I don't own any of the characters or ideas behind the said characters, those are al JK Rowling's. I do however own the poems on here. They are copyrighted through myself and no one may use them or quote them unless you ask me then tell where you found them.

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**CHAPTER ONE-BEGINNINGS**

It was the first day of Harry's seventh and final year at Hogwarts. This year, unlike others, was the only year where Harry wasn't able to enjoy the lavish feast in the Great Hall. It had taken every ounce of his soul to step on the train back to school instead of looking for the last Horcruxes. But he couldn't do it, not without Dumbledore. Dumbledore had been his guide for the better part of Harry's six years at Hogwarts. With him gone, Harry was unsure if he could find the last Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort. He didn't have the heart to let the entire wizarding world down and drove the thought of finding the pieces of Voldemort's soul out of his mentality.

Looking around the Great Hall, Harry felt his heart drop. Faces of happy teenagers and love sick couples filled his mind. Had everyone forgotten the death of their beloved Headmaster already? It had been three months, almost to the day. Was no one still mourning his death? Was it only him? Feeling left out and abandoned, Harry excused himself early from the Gryffindor table, leaving behind many confused people.

Staring at the cold, stone floor, Harry's mind wandered from his ex-Headmaster to his dead godfather. Why did everyone he had ever gotten close to die? Was he just too much of a burden for people to bear? Would they be happier if he hadn't been chosen by Voldemort?

"Ooof!" the air rushed out of Harry's lungs. Flat on his back, Harry looked up into the fiery grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

"Watch it Potter!" he spat, his cheeks flushed and his hair tosseled. "Next time you'll wind up with a brusied and bloody face."

Harry watched as the furious boy marched away towards the Slytherin common room located deep underneath the castle. He was still sitting on the floor when another flushed cheek, tossled hair boy walked around the corner. The boy, wearing a Ravenclaw patch on his robes, looked surprised to see Harry on the floor and picked up his pace as he made his way to the main staircase.

"No, don't help me up. I'll just sit here," Harry sarcastically said to thin air. Grumbling, Harry made the rest of his journey to his dorm room without any more occurences.

With a thump, Harry sat himself down at the small, wooden desk next to the dorm room door. It was old and scratched up from the many uses, which was why Harry loved it so. It was old and had withheld through the test of time. Opening the top left drawer, the raven haired boy removed a piece of parchment, an older quill and a half empty bottle of black ink.

_These black tears I cry, _

_Fall from my blackened heart, _

_These empty wishes I have, _

_Come from my emptied soul, _

_My bruised dreams are nothing more, _

_Than the bruised fears I now know._

Harry read over the fresh poem as the ink dried and was satisfied with himself. Writing down his problems in the form of poetry had been an easy out for the troubled teen growing up. From a young age, Harry was known, and punished, for writing poetry. The Dursleys would not allow their strange house guest to write "Namby, pamby girly poems," it wasn't something a boy was to do. But Harry knew from the few years in a Muggle school that it was ok to write poems, even if you were a guy. He didn't stop writing down his feelings, even when he had been beaten so badly that he was black and blue for two weeks. If it hadn't been for the poems, Harry figured he would be dead now. They had saved him from going over the edge many times. It was theraputic, that flow of consciousness, from an idea to a work of art. Every poem that Harry had ever written was kept in a secret compartment in his trunk. No one knew about his passion, not even his two best friends.

"They wouldn't understand," Harry sighed, folding the piece of paper in four and putting it with his other confidential poems. Undressing and changing into his pajamas, Harry climbed into bed and closed the bed curtains, just as the rest of his dorm mates walked in.

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A/N: thanks for reading this. I know it isn't long, but that's because I have to think up poems and those take the longest. I am not sure how many chapters it will be, but it does come second to my main Fic, The Rest of Our Lives. I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think of my poems. 


	2. Left Behind

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER TWO-LEFT BEHIND**

Harry awoke the next morning with a start. Above him, a red haired boy stood not more than a few inches from Harry's face.

"What the fuck?" Harry yelled.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled. "Didn't mean to frighten you. There is only ten minutes left of breakfast and thought I should ask you if you wanted to get up or skip it?"

Yawning, Harry decided he had better eat since the previous night had been full of more being on his ass than actually eating. Come to think of it, his ass really hurt. He rubbed it tenderly. Malfoy was such a prick. "I'll be down in two. Just go ahead without me," he advised Ron.

Stumbling from his bed to the bathroom, Harry quickly showered and dressed. With five minutes left of breakfast, the still sleepy boy raced down to the Great Hall to find it nearly deserted. At the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione sat with Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood, even though the latter was a Ravenclaw. Taking a seat next to Ron, Harry grabbed a piece of buttered toast and piled scrambled eggs onto his empty plate.

When he had finished eating, Hermione advised them that they had Potions with the Ravenclaws and they had better not be late. No one wanted to get points taken off by Snape this early in the morning.

In Potions, Snape was just as grumpy as usual and maybe even more so that Harry and Ron had made it into their seventh year of Potions. Snape was determined to catch them at cheating, that way he could personally expel the brats.

"Harry!" Hermione murmured. "Pay attention! Your Sizzling Solution is starting to boil. If it boils over, the table will start on fire!" She shook her head.

"Er...thanks."

But Hermione's save didn't help Harry as he added more Salamander Tongue and his potion turned a foul shade of green and a pungent odor began to fill the small dungeon.

"Potter!!" Snape bellowed. "You stupid idiot. You added the Salamander Tongue before the Newt Tail, didn't you? Didn't I warn you not too? Fifteen points from Gryffindor for not paying attention and ten more for making my dungeon smell." He waved his wand and the potion disappeared from Harry's cauldron, but the rotten smell of dead fish still lingered in the air. "That should teach you to not pay attention," Snape sneered.

Seething, Harry packed up his items and hurriedly left the classroom. "Fucking Snape. 'That should teach you not to pay attention,' " Harry mimicked, trying hard not to turn around and waltz up to his teacher and punch him in his overly large nose. Instead, Harry violently punched the wall. Pain shot up his right arm as blood began to trickle from his four knuckles. Not the wisest decision Harry had ever made, but he felt better.

Deciding not to head to the Infirmary, like a smart person would do, or go to his next class, Harry made his way up the main stairway. He was going to tough it out. It would teach him not to tune out Snape and it would fuel his hunger to write out his thoughts.

Back at the old desk in his dorm room, Harry once again got out his parchment, quill and ink bottle.

_Silence is the ill-bred talk of men, _

_J__ust know that this silence is mine. _

_The silence is my suppression, My depression. _

_Leave it be, Let it rot. Some things are better left locked up. _

_Unlock the key to my heart, Buried within my soul. _

_Unlock my dead heart, Before it runs cold. _

_Cold like the ice queen, Chilled to the bone. _

_Some things are better left unknown._

Re-reading his poem, Harry realized he hadn't been feeling as much hatred as he had thought. He still felt empty and alone. Dumbledore was dead, buried beneath six feet of ground. Sirius was gone, lost forever to the black veil. And his friends? Well they were long gone, far from his side long before. For the second time in his life, the first being abandoned on his Uncle's front porch, Harry had been left behind.


	3. Pieces of a Puzzle

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER THREE-PIECES OF A PUZZLE**

Months flew by Harry like dandelion seeds, unnoticed and uncared for. Everything was the same yet it had all changed. Classes remained languid and uninteresting as did the teachers who taught them. Once tasteful food now tasted like Styrofoam packing peanuts. Not even the people he had run to years before had a comforting appeal to him anymore; they were just people, people who had left him behind and continued driving away faster and faster as the days that Harry stayed locked in his empty shell multiplied like beetles.

With every passing day, Harry skipped more and more of his classes, running off to his personal desk to barter his soul away to a piece of blank paper. It was something his friends had once yearned to do; they would have done anything to be that piece of paper in Harry's hands, if only to hear one minutes time of his thoughts. Now they fled when Harry mentioned anything other than a happy thought.

Nothing was the same he guessed. Instead of Hermione sitting in the dusty stacks of the Library, it was Harry, breathing in the familiar smell of must and old books. This new smell was comforting to Harry. When he had found his dorm room full of laughing boys, unable to write down his thoughts, Harry ran from the room, not looking back, needing comfort and peace at that moment. He had come to the only other peaceful place, the Library. It was now his room away from his room where he could think for hours and not be bothered.

Another thing that had slowly changed over the year was his feeling towards Ginny. He had always loved her, or so he thought it was love. It was the feeling of being intoxicated while just looking at her and the idea of being in Heaven at holding her hand. Kissing had been a whole new thing: a happy death. Yes, he had felt all of those things at one point, but he hadn't spoken a word to her since his farewell the pervious year. Now she wouldn't look at him; he was a fungus under her shoes. Other girls gave him the same feeling, as if word was spreading like the wind that Harry was an Untouchable; he was broken, why bother? But he wasn't!! Goddamnit! He wasn't broken, at least he didn't think he was. He had merely changed, people were allowed to change.

He fumbled around for parchment on himself, but couldn't find any, only a quill and ink. Where was it when he fucking needed it?? Grabbing the next best thing to a fresh sheet of parchment, Harry grabbed a small book, not caring that he was about to vandalize it. He needed to write, it was an addiction.

_All that I know is I'm breathing,_

_Breathing in a toxic dust_

_That kills the nerves,_

_Eats away at the soul,_

_I'm breathing in fumes_

_Contaminated with words_

_That haunt my dreams,_

_Fill my brimming head with nonsense,_

_And all I know is I'm still breathing_.

Sighing, Harry felt a bit better. His mind cleared and his breathing slowed. This was much better than cutting which left unanswered questions and fearful people. He shoved the small book in the row above his head, once again not caring about the book. He didn't read them when he came in here, simply taking in their quiet essence, their old and faded covers giving comfort to his woes.

Harry stood up, stretched his long and cramped legs and decided he had better get to class. McGonagall would give him detention if he missed another one and Merlin knew she had some wickedly harsh punishments.

As Harry left the isle of books he was in, he didn't see a blonde haired boy sneak in after him. It was Draco Malfoy. And he had proof that Harry had defaced a school book. Madam Pince would have Harry's hide. Leafing through the book, Draco found the page Harry had written on. Something caught his eye. He quickly scanned the writing and found it was a poem, a very well written poem actually.

"Potter wrote this?" Draco mussed. That was impossible. He quickly flipped through the rest of the book, searching for other evidence of sabotage. Nothing. "He really did write this." Unable to turn the book in, for he was enthralled, Draco checked the book out, rereading the poem several times before he had reached his house's common room.

"Dung Bats," he said to no one. A door sprung up and Draco entered, feeling like he had just found a piece to the puzzle that everyone else was missing. He wondered who would want to own this piece.


	4. Different Views

A/N: I figured that since the last three chapters have followed Harry, I would make this one from Draco's POV. There is no poem in this one, because Draco doesn't write poetry. R&R! Thanks!!!

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**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER FOUR- DIFFERENT VIEWS**

**Draco's POV:**

Draco awoke the next morning with a grin. Today he was going to start the bidding on the missing link of The Boy Who Lived. It was a joyous day. He, Draco Lucius Malfoy, had the piece that even Potter's friends didn't have. Yes, he knew about the rift that was spreading like a disease between the trio. It was evident on their pathetic faces. None of them were happy and none of them said more than a few sentences to each other. Wasn't life just so grand? Finally, Draco was above Harry freaking Potter. He had more friends, more money and he was happy. The day couldn't get any worse.

After Draco had showered and made himself perfect looking in record time, he gathered the book in his right arm and walked out of his dorm room. Draco re-read the poem, walking slowly so as not to walk into anyone. That would be embarrassing, especially to a Malfoy, who held their heads high. The poem really was a masterpiece, if Draco did say so himself. If he wasn't so chipper, the poem could almost pass as his. However, Malfoy's did not plagiarize unless the author was dead and unknown for their work.

Entering the Great Hall, Draco steered himself away from the Slytherin table and towards the Gryffindor one instead. He cleared his throat, making sure all eyes were upon him.

"What are you doing here Malfoy? Lost are we?" Ron dared Draco.

"Oh, harsh words Weasel. I didn't know you could use such foul language," Draco coyly said.

"You mother-"

"Ah, ah, wouldn't want a teacher to hear your foul mouth," Draco smiled wickedly. "I'll let it slide this time though. I am here on a specific task."

"So get on with it and bugger off!" Ron spat, furious.

"As I have noticed, you, Mudblood and Potty here aren't friends. I am here to offer you the missing piece of your precious Boy Who Lived, for a cost of course."

"What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?" Hermione interjected.

Holding up the book, Draco noticed Harry's eyes widen. "This here is a book."

"Really? Wow, smart one there!" Ron growled.

"Not only that," Draco bit back, trying his hardest to refrain from punching the ugly red head. "but this book also contains a secret that your- AHH!"

Before Draco could finish his sentence, Harry had leapt across the breakfast table at his enemy. In an instant, Harry had Draco pinned and had wrestled the small book out of Draco's grasp. Draco, having neither of his hands full, took advantage of his enemies one empty hand, and punched Harry in the nose. A large crunch was heard, spilling Harry's blood himself and the raven haired boy.

"Ugh," Draco cringed just as Professor McGonagall shot up the main walkway between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw table.

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Potter! Let's go, right this instant!" she screamed at the two bloody boys, one of which was still clutching the small book as he clutched his broken nose. "NOW!"

Following McGonagall, Draco tried to clean his robes off, but the Siphoning Charm didn't work as well as he had hoped.

"Movafucka," Harry whispered behind his Professor's back.

"Jackass," Draco spat back just as quietly.

In the Infirmary, Madam Pomfrey healed Harry's broken nose and then cleaned up the two boys. She was, however, ordered to leave Harry with the pain that throbbed through his now unbroken nose and to let Draco's head ache. That would 'teach' him not to fight anymore. Both boys were given detentions for that night at nine o'clock.

"If you are late by a second, I will give you a harsher punishment than cleaning bed pans. You had better thank Merlin that Albus doesn't know. He would not be pleased!!" McGonagall stormed out of the Infirmary.

"Thanks Potter. You can be such prick," declared Draco, as he rubbed the back of his head which was sore from having it hit the concrete floor. Harry had caught him off guard but he had gotten his revenge. Now he just needed to get back that book. "Can I have my book back?"

"Fuck no!" Harry pulled the book away from Draco.

"I'm the one that checked it out."

"So I see. How did you know?"

"I saw you writing in it, I was going to tell Pince, but this is better, much better. So let me have that book or I'll break more than your nose this time," Draco threatened, glaring at Harry.

Harry's eyes widened, then became small slits, "You think you are so tough, but I'd like to see you go through the shit that I do! You talk big but you act small. So here," Harry threw the book at Draco, "take the bloody book. Sell it for all it's worth, I don't care anymore. There is nothing to live for anyways." With that said, Harry left the infirmary, leaving behind a stunned Draco.


	5. Poles Apart & Still Connected

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER FIVE- POLES APART AND STILL CONNECTED**

Harry was furious, both at Draco and himself. How could he have been so stupid? He had gone to the Library for peace and calm. He had found it, but for those eighteen seconds of cacophonous bliss, Harry now had a price to pay. Draco would surely sell that book, without a moments hesitation or thought, to the highest bidder, most likely Voldemort. Wouldn't He be happy to find that Harry was a wreck and alone? It would be like Christmas to the King of the damned. Soon, Harry would become the hunted again. Where he had been united, he had been strong, now that he was divided, he was weak. Wasn't it better to end it now rather than be defeated by his sworn nemesis? Better to sleep forever or fight the misfortunes that fall his way? Sighing, Harry didn't know.

Aimlessly, Harry walked around the castle, not caring if he was caught by a teacher and punished. What did it matter anymore? Everything he knew, everything he cared about, gone like the wind. He thought he had his poems to run to, but even those were corrupt now. Tainted by the memory of Draco. How he loathed Draco. "Git," Harry murmered aloud.

"You wouldn't be talking about me now would you Potter?" a slick voice retorted.

Looking up, Harry found himself once again in front of Draco Malfoy. Breathing slowly and counting back from ten, Harry tried walking around the tall boy to find that the boy moved with him.

"Malfoy, move."

"Make me Potter, or don't you remember the last time, where I broke your nose?" Draco taunted. "But that's not what I wanted."

"Oof," Harry caught the small book that Draco had thrown in his chest. "Why are you giving me this back?"

"Let's just say it's a favor. Don't do me any, I don't take them from people like you." Draco stalked away before Harry could retaliate.

With quizzical eyes, Harry stare after the Slytherin. Why would Draco do a favor for Harry? What was in it for him? Harry thought the point of being enemies was to torture the other. Was Draco's ice cold heart melting?

Turning and sprinting Harry yelled, "Draco!" He turned the corner and found Draco rooted to the spot. "Hey."

Draco slowly spun around, "What is it now, Potter?"

Harry stuck out his hand, an offer of peace. "Thanks."

The awe struck blonde's mouth fell open. Eyeing Harry suspiciously, Draco extended his hand and quickly shook the offered one.

An invisible spark ran up Harry's arm, stinging his insides and generating a warm glow in his face.

Instantly, Harry and Draco turned heel and walked away. Neither boy knew what had happened. What they did know was that something had changed.

_There is a deep passion,_

_Buried away,_

_Locked behind the walls of day._

_I keep it hidden from all to see,_

_So they do not judge me,_

_And see me for me._

_It will safely stay,_

_Always locked away,_

_For I will never show you,_

_That which you already knew._

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A/N: this may seem sudden to just end like this but is necessary since Harry's words are laid out in front of you.


	6. Sun & Moon

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER SIX-SUN AND MOON**

Harry knew that a person could look at someone and see sparks. He also knew that people could see others in a new light. What Harry didn't know was if it could happen in a split second. Could his views of someone, namely Draco, transform from loathing to liking because of a small favor that he had done for Harry? Things like that didn't just happen, did they?

For two days, Harry mulled over these very same questions, without any luck of an answer. Details of his encounter with Draco played back through his mind like reels of tape, over and over again. Nothing new came from it. It was driving Harry stark mad.

The worst thing of it all was that Draco looked as if he hadn't a care in the world. He looked cool and calm in his neatly pressed robes with his perfectly placed hair. During meals he could bee seen laughing with his fellow Slytherins while Harry sat isolated from the rest of the school. Draco was even seen enjoying quidditch, as long as he caught the Golden Snitch.

Harry scowled at the thought of Draco's freedom as he sat outside beneath a Sycamore. Not only was Harry not playing quidditch because it now bored him, but he felt worse than he looked, which was saying something. Harry's normally un-kept hair was a disaster of knots, giving him a look of fake dreads. His usual creased robes were so rumpled, that Harry always looked as if he had just rolled out of bed, which he did on most occasions. As an added bonus, the daily showers of the past became a once a week thing.

Simply put, Harry was slipping away, and he didn't care. He felt numb to the cool breeze that licked his bare neck. The wind that rushed through the grass, hissed at him. And the cat-tails along the clear lake catcalled, exposing truths Harry wouldn't have gotten from a text book: relationships with The Boy Who Lived did not last. Sirius and Dumbledore were dead; Hermione and Ron were as good as dead. He had dumped Ginny and Cho had run from him. What was the point of thinking of someone, even if it was the faintest idea in the back of his mind? There was never going to be more than hate between the two enemies. It was like saying the sun was like the moon.

"You know," a voice carried along the wind from behind Harry. "Anyone can smell you from a mile away."

It was Draco Malfoy, standing against the fading sun. A halo of light bathed the solemn boy as he walked over to Harry.

The heart in Harry's chest gave a small pitter-patter as his breath caught. Draco looked like such an angel from his view. The mood was light and it was almost like they were friends, exchanging untroubled gossip.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Back to last names, are we?" Draco bantered.

"Cut the crap. I'm not in the mood," Harry turned around and faced the lake again.

Draco quietly sat beside Harry. He breathed in deeply before he began, "The other day you called me Draco. You haven't ever called me by my first name. I want to know why. But first I want you to know that I burned the book."

"What book?" Harry shrugged.

"Fuck, Potter! What is your problem?" Draco bitched. "I try and do a nice thing for you and you spit it back in my face. Can't you say thank you or even acknowledge what I have done?"

"What, Malfoy? You want me to thank _you _for not selling a book that _I _poured my soul into?" Harry began to clap his hands. "Well thank you! You are such a God." He stopped clapping and stood.

Draco continued to sit on the grass. His words were soft and delicate, not harsh as Harry had expected. "You think no one notices the change. That you are just invisible to everyone, but you aren't. People see you, they know something has changed. Most think you're broken and the teachers won't talk of it."

"What of it?" Harry questioned, rooted to the spot.

Draco sighed. " '_All that I know is I'm breathing, breathing in a toxic dust that kills the nerves, eats away at the soul, I'm breathing in fumes contaminated with words that haunt my dreams, fill my brimming head with nonsense, and all I know is I'm still breathing.' _"

Harry stared , dumbfounded. "You-That's my poem."

Nodding, Draco said, "I was taken aback when I first read it. Then I was enthralled when I read it again. I read that poem twice a day, everyday."

Blinking, Harry was still star struck. Draco Malfoy had not only memorized his poem, but he had been enthralled by it. The world had just been thrown into chaos, and only he knew it. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No!" suddenly Draco was furious. "Merlin! I fucking try and reach out, and you slap me in the fucking face. What the hell? Do you have no soul anymore?"

Harry shook his head, "No."

The blonde boy exhaled, running his fingers through his hair. Harry thought it was kind of sexy, but who cared. This had to be a joke.

"I was trying to do you a favor," Draco explained. "It's something people do for people who are hurting."

Sitting beside the blonde once again, Harry thought to himself, 'I guess the sun and the moon are more alike than I figured.'

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A/N: I know, another no poem. You will understand later why I am not intertwining in poems as much. Thanks! 


	7. Secret Changes

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER SEVEN-SECRET CHANGES**

When Harry had left Draco sitting by the lake, they had decided upon meeting in a more private place to talk. Harry didn't really like the idea of meeting Draco alone, since the last time he had done so he had wound up with a detention. Some part of him knew Draco was being earnest but there was still a fraction of him that believed Draco was trying to avenge himself.

Blowing out a breath of frustration, Harry watched the clock slowly tick the minutes away. Fifteen minutes till midnight, and then he would be meeting Draco. How unusual, and very strange. When he thought back he couldn't remember ever feeling so changed. It came from nothing but touched it all. He didn't understand the complexities of life nor his own heart. The heart that had beaten avidly in his chest at one point was old and new at the same time. It felt less and less as each day passed, but the pitter-patter it gave was recent. What the hell was it that made his heart skip a beat?

The clock suddenly chimed its arrival of midnight.

'Shit,' he was going to be late. Harry guessed this was the test to end all questions.

Leaping from the arm chair he had been sitting in, Harry ran straight for the Library. He hadn't bothered grabbing his Invisibility Cloak because Draco didn't need one, and neither did he. At the Library doors Harry paused for a moment to breathe. The door was slightly ajar, signifying Draco's presence.

Entering the Library, Harry listened for signs of the other boy, unsure where he would be, but heard nothing. Walking through the isles, thoughts began to run through his head. This was a setup, like the last time. He was going to get caught; he was going to get a hefty detention. Why did he have to come? But as Harry rounded the last isle, his thoughts were put on hiatus as he saw Draco sitting on the floor.

"You're late," was all the grey eyed boy said.

Thinking on his feet, Harry lied, "Ran into some problems in the common room."

Draco nodded. "Didn't think you were going to show."

"Me? You. Last time we were to meet in the dark you set me up!" Harry started to get heated.

"That was a long time ago, get over it," the tone to Draco's icy words shut Harry up. Was Draco really trying to change the past? Could a past so heavily entwined with hatred and mistrust be put aside like a book you never liked? Maybe, anything was possible, but it was going to take time, time that Harry knew he now had.

"I asked you to meet me here because I can't afford for others to know we talk. It would ruin my rep. You aren't worth it," explained Draco.

Furrowing his brows, Harry stood. "Then why ask me here at all?"

Harry tried to storm off but a cool hand latched onto his wrist. "Potter, sit. Things need to be said."

"So say. Tell me whatever it is you need to get off your chest," he disbelieved.

Clearing his throat, Draco began. "That day I read your poem, something inside me moved. I guess you could call it a change. Because of that, I tried to sell your book, to get over it. When you jumped at me, I realized that you didn't want anyone to know. I, however, already knew and it pissed me off. I didn't want to know," Draco stood, pacing. "I wanted to hate you and be able to laugh at you, but that goddamn poem! It ran through my mind when I wasn't reading it, and when I was, it was like a part of me had been filled. It's fucking insane."

"You're telling me," Harry mumbled without Draco hearing.

"When the time came to laugh and hate you, I couldn't. I needed to help you because when I saw your sad fucking face, it tore at me. How? I don't know. It just did. That's why I am here."

Looking into Draco's eyes, Harry could see the truth. Maybe Draco couldn't change who he had always been, but he change himself for tomorrow. The hardest part was that Harry had to change too, and he didn't know if he could. He had been so numb and empty for so long that change wouldn't come without a price. What was that price that he had to pay? Would it be worth it in the end?

"Ok," Harry said. "So what do you want to do about it?"

For the first time Draco said nothing. Instead the boy looked at the dusty books above Harry's head.

"Is there something you aren't telling me?"

Silver-grey eyes met with emerald green ones. Harry understood.

"You think I'm attractive?" Harry almost laughed with relief.

"Not like that!" Draco spat.

Harry smirked, "I can fix that."


	8. Looks Are Everything, Mostly

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER EIGHT-LOOKS ARE EVERYTHING…MOSTLY**

After Harry's pleasant encounter with Draco, Harry ambled back to his common room. He was slightly antsy when he entered through the portrait and decided to fix himself up for Draco. Harry crept up the stairs to the dorms and through the room without any mishaps until he reached his bed. Opening the lid of his trunk, a loud creak ran through the deadly silent room. Neville Longbottom snorted in his sleep and rolled over, unawake. The two boys on the other side of the room slept on but the curtains that belonged to the bed next to Harry's opened.

A red haired boy's face appeared behind the curtains in the darkness. "Whoz 'er?"

Cursing, Harry crouched silently behind his trunk, waiting. Several minutes passed as Ron swayed on his bed before he closed the curtains and passed out again. Harry then quietly grabbed his pajamas and made a mad dash for the bathroom before he woke anyone else up.

After a hot shower, Harry dried off with a warm towel. He stepped up to the steamed mirror and wiped off the condensation. A soggy green eyes boy stared back at Harry. Merlin, he looked awful. His hair needed a good cut; conjuring a pair of scissors, since he didn't know how to cut his hair magically, Harry began to trim away the knots in his hair. It took the better part of a half an hour but when he was finished, he looked like a new man.

Satisfied, Harry's eyelids began to droop. Not wanting more bags under his eyes, Harry tucked himself under his covers on his empty bed. A warm glow filled Harry's empty stomach before he drifted off to Never-Never Land.

The next morning, Harry awoke slowly. Sunlight was already over the tree tops as it sparkled in Harry's face. Groaning, he reluctantly rolled out of bed. Tired to the marrow, his bones creaked. The last time he had slept so soundly had been nearly four months ago. His body wasn't used to it. Tea was needed, or a shot of Fire-whiskey.

In the bathroom, Harry took special care to fix his hair and wear wrinkle free clothes. Then he brushed his teeth to a white glow. Today was the first day that Draco was going to see him looking like a new man. And damnit, he did look like a new man! It actually felt good. Of course it was great to just go and be as he was, but that wasn't everything. Looks did matter.

Harry left the common room feeling amazing, except for being very tired still. Immediately in the hallways people were turning heads and staring. Gossip circled him as he walked through the halls to breakfast. No one cared if he overheard them, Harry was just glad to know that everyone was sure he wasn't broken. How sweet it was to be heralded again.

As Harry entered the Great Hall, chatter died and heads swung. Everyone was noticing the change. It was abrupt, behind their backs. Some were taken aback, some were curious, and some were aroused. Draco was in the last group, trying hard to fight the beating of his heart. He wasn't going to be a slave to the Gryffindor. Two could play dirty games as well as one could.

Unaware of Draco's thoughts, but aware of the grey staring eyes, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table. He grabbed himself an English muffin and buttered it. The stares were starting to fade away as talk of normalcies replaced it. Why were looks so important to everyone? Who really cared what was on the outside? He looked around the Great Hall at all the students, half of which primped themselves for hours. Shrugging, Harry continued to eat his breakfast in silence.

A cough was heard at Harry's left elbow. Ron and Hermione had appeared beside him.

"Hey," Ron began. "Get a good nights sleep?"

Harry nodded and an awkward silence fell between the once good friends.

"Harry," Hermione tried, "I'm-We are really-"

"Listen mate," Ron tried as Hermione's voice faded away, her lips quivering. "We just wanted to say-"

"Don't," Harry interrupted. "Don't tell me you guys are sorry. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. I want nothing to do with you guys. You threw me out of your lives and I don't want back in."

"But-We only-" Hermione said, disbelief in her eyes.

"No, whatever your excuse is, save it. You were the only ones I had that I could talk to and you abandoned me. So leave me alone."

Tears sprang up in Hermione's eyes as she turned and ran. Ron followed a few moments later, fury written in his eyes, but torn as the girl he loved ran and his ex-best friend sat before him. Harry felt a little saddened at the turn of events, but it was for the better. Weren't friends supposed to be there through thick and thin? Even when the walls were plummeting around you. They were the ones. Now they weren't. They would have to live with it, just as Harry had lived with so far.


	9. Fundamentals

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER NINE-FUNDAMENTALS**

Once Harry's classes had ended for the day, and dinner was over, Harry snuck away from the Gryffindor common room, which was nearly empty, to meet his secret in the Library again. This was going to be their second secret meeting, and Harry had no idea what they were going to talk about. Last night they had only discussed what brought them together and Draco's attraction to himself. Tonight was going to be something new though. Would Harry's attraction come out as well? What would Draco think? Would the boy laugh or be smug, like usual? What did you talk about with a secret-crush-not-so-much-an-enemy?

Harry entered the unlocked Library and went directly to the last isle where Draco sat, leaning against a bookshelf. He looked cool and collected, without a worry in the world. Was there a potion he took to look that good? Because if there was, Harry wanted to take it as well.

"Hey," Draco glanced up at Harry. "Pop a squat."

Sitting, Harry said nothing. He didn't know what to say.

"Have any problems getting here?" asked Draco, trying to break the ice.

"Nope."

"No Invisibility Cloak either."

"Nope."

"Have a good day?"

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "Just another day."

"What did you do?"

"What normal kids do when at boarding school," Harry said sarcastically. It was much easier to be mean than nice to someone he had hated his entire time at school.

Draco's face dropped. "Are you done? I'm trying here and you once again, smack me in the face. What the hell is your problem? If you want to be a jackass, why come? To rub it in my face?"

"No, that's not it," Harry defended himself. "I just don't know what to say to you. You are so peaceful and at ease. I'm having trouble breathing."

Laughing, Draco clutched at his sides. "You honestly think this is easy for me, Potter? Well it isn't. It's not everyday I converse with a known enemy."

"You're nervous, is that what you are saying?"

"Yea. Just because I'm a Malfoy and I like everyone to know it doesn't mean I don't feel things. I have a heart, soul and mind. I'm not cold or empty."

Harry commented with an "I am."

"Obviously not if you're here with me and you're nervous," Draco paused. "Which means…you are attracted to me!"

A sweat broke out on Harry's brow as the boy smiled wickedly. "What? Fuck no!"

"Don't deny it!" Draco shouted, his voice ringing through the vacant stacks. "If you like me, why can't you admit it? I fucking did. Be a man!"

"It's not exactly easy to say what I feel, Malfoy!" he retaliated. "Everyone I end up loving either dies or abandons me. I can't get close to people without wondering what the future will bring. I, Harry James Potter, have feelings for you. Is this what you want to hear? Are you satisfied?"

Draco sat for a moment in silence. Harry was unsure what the boy was thinking and was worried he had somehow said the wrong thing. Unexpectedly, Draco edged his way next to Harry. The two boys sat face to face, looking into each other's eyes. Harry noticed Draco's eyes were flecked with blue, it was something a lot of people wouldn't know and he was glad to.

"Yes, I actually did want to hear that," opened Draco, leaning closer towards the raven, licking his lips and parting them slowly. He leaned closer yet, until Harry could smell Draco's minty breath. "It's getting late, I'm going to bed."

With that, Draco stood and strolled out of the empty Library. Stunned, Harry stayed sitting on the floor. Was that a mutual and reasonable idea for a first kiss?


	10. Strangers No More

A/N: The poem you are about to read is way off kilter and for good reasons. Just continue to read it and you will understand why this is not a good poem. Thanks

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**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER TEN- STRANGERS NO MORE**

_Clouded in a mystery,_

_Holding it all in,_

_Shrinking from reality._

_You're dangerous,_

_Poison to the nerves,_

_But I won't fuss._

_Lost are the ones I loved,_

_Gone is the soft wind,_

_Here is the hated._

_The time will come to sink or swim,_

_Choose with the head, choose with the heart,_

_Destroy myself in the process or kill the others off,_

_Bitterness crowns, hate drowns._

Frustrated, Harry crumpled up the parchment before him. Not only was he utterly confused about himself and his situations at hand, but so was his poetry; each stanza made sense on its own but the whole made his head hurt. The ideas, both in his mind and on the smashed parchment, were resisting and willing at the same time. They battled each other, winning one minute and suffering defeat the next. Harry had hoped that if he wrote it down, his mind would find clarity, as it always did. That was not the position he found himself in. It didn't even matter that for the past week he hadn't seen Draco except in classes.

Pushing away from the desk where he had sat for the past hour, Harry stretched his long legs. He walked a few circles around the dorm room, contemplating the thought of writing another poem. If it turned out as badly at the first he swore he was going to burn the bloody desk. Instead, Harry was interrupted when he heard a knock at the closed door.

'Who the hell could that be?' he considered, since no sane person knocked in Hogwarts.

On the other side of the wooden door, a bushy haired girl slouched with wet, red streaks down her face. In the girl's normally clean hands, which were now stained, was a half broken quill; where the other half of the quill was, Harry couldn't fathom.

The two old friends stood awkwardly, the open door between them.

Since Harry was unsure if Hermione could actually speak, he asked her if she was ok. Hermione didn't answer, but stared at her dirty hands. "Do you need another quill?"

Unexpectedly, Hermione burst into tears and began to spout nonsense. "I just- there was nothing- he didn't care- why are you- please can't- I want to- there was nothing-"

"Stop!" Harry exclaimed, frightening Hermione. "If you want to say something, do it coherently."

With a deep and unsteady breath, Hermione started, her lip trembling slightly. "Ron and I were fighting about homework and he stole my quill away from me so I would focus on him. When I tried to take it back, it broke in half, and I realized something," she paused, trying hard fight the tears leaking from her brown eyes. "I realized that that quill was like our relationship. We used to work as one, be one, and now you hate me. I'm just a brainless, worthless friend."

It felt like a rock plummeted into his stomach. Harry watched his friend battle with herself and was actually torn. On the one hand, she had deserted and betrayed him. She had left him to battle with his own inner demons, alone and scared. On the other hand, though, she had tried to bridge that gap last week. Now that same fearless girl he once knew was bawling at his feet because she regretted her choices.

"'Mione," Harry attempted to find the right words, "You can't change the past-"

"I know," Hermione lunged at Harry, who stood static, however she tripped over her foot and fell into Harry's outstretched arms. The tears launched another cascade down Hermione's already damp cheeks.

"Stop crying, 'Mione," Harry soothed, compassion etched into every syllable he uttered. "You can't change the past, but you can change the future. Someone taught me that recently. So stop crying." He gently hugged the small girl in his arms, warmth spreading through his body.

Both friends stood holding one another. Hermione still had tears falling from her puffy eyes. Harry's robes were wet, but he ignored it and stroked Hermione's hair. He thought to himself that he missed having someone so intimate in his life. The road to Hell was a long one, especially without friends. It was weird to think that for so long they had been strangers and in one moment of true weakness, they were strangers no more.


	11. New Details

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN- NEW DETAILS**

After his long embrace with Hermione, Harry pried the girl's fingers from his back. He was sure he would have deep grooves where her hands had been; she had held on as if Harry was dying and she would never hold him again. It was once like that, drowning in the death grip of lost friendship, but now, things were looking better. There was a new beginning at the edge of the horizon, and it wasn't bleak or deserted anymore. It was full of people who cared, well maybe not full, but there were at least two people, Hermione and Draco.

Speaking of Draco, Harry wondered when they would meet in the Library again for a midnight rendezvous. A week had passed, and not even a hint of a meeting. Harry had tried to get the Slytherin's attention during and after class, but nothing. The boy was basically ignoring Harry, at least that's what it felt like. Could Draco be bored with Harry already? Was that even possible? They had only met in the Library a few times, except the last time had ended in very close proximity. What the hell did that mean? did Draco want to kiss Harry? Did Harry even want to kiss Draco? A flip of Harry's stomach told him that yes, he kind of did. Was that wrong?

"Harry?" Hermione sniffled, wiping the tears from her face. "What's on your mind?"

Startled, Harry looked at his friend with confusion. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

"About Ron?" she asked. "Because he would be here now if he didn't have Quidditch practice. He was against the idea of my coming to talk with you after last week, it was only because he couldn't be here. I'm sure of it. He must be dying from the inside holding everything in. He won't talk about any of it."

Awkwardly, Harry answered with a grunt. He hadn't been thinking of Ron. Actually, Ron had been the last thing on his mind.

"Just don't hate him, Harry," Hermione pleaded.

"Why would I hate him?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words. " He only ran away from my problems faster than I could, with you by his side."

"Harry, he didn't know what to do. _We _didn't know what to do."

"It doesn't matter. He didn't apologize. If he cared so much, he would be here by your side, making amends."

"He would if he could-"

"But he can't, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"It doesn't even matter. He showed he couldn't be a friend. If this was his first time, I would have forgiven him, but Ron did this in our fourth year. Never does he take my side first, it's always last."

"Oh Harry he-"

"Don't make up excuses for him. It can't be justified. I have a new best friend now," blurted Harry.

Hermione's eyes widened as large as quarters. "You replaced us?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he scrambled for the lost words in his mind, "I don't know what I meant. It's nothing. Just forget it." Harry shook his head and walked away from the brunette, towards the hallway outside his dorm.

Hermione tugged at his arm as it swung past her. "Who are you talking about? You haven't been seen in anyone's company since mine or Ron's. Are you delusional? Are you sick?"

"No!" Harry was angry again. "I'm not making it up. I meet them in the Library when everyone else is sleeping."

"Who? Tell me," Hermione suddenly became giddy. "Do you have a crush on her? Is she pretty? What is she like? Do I know her?"

Harry felt very sheepish immediately, color creeping across his pale cheeks. "It isn't a girl, persay."

"What do you mean 'persay'? Is it a girl or not?"

"Not"

"Are you serious? When did this all happen?"

"Recently. It's not like I asked for it. It just…fell in my lap."

"Ooh. That is exciting. But you haven't said who it is!!!"

"Draco," Harry mumbled incoherently.

She held her hand up to her ear, "Repeat that, please."

"Draco Malfoy."

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A/N: Hope you have liked these last two chapters. I wanted to add more Hermione and Harry action because I believe that friendships can last through thick and thin. I also believe forgiveness is in everyone, no matter how foul a person they are. As for Ron, I have a plan for him, don't worry!! 


	12. Indulgences

A/N: I am not very happy with the way this chapter is laid out, but I couldn't seem to make it any better. Let me know what you think or what could be changed to make it better. Thanks!!!

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**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER TWELVE-INDULGENCES**

Things went pretty smoothly for Harry the next couple of days. He and Hermione were rekindling their lost friendship with late night chats and study sessions, since Harry was far behind the other students and wasn't going to pass the year if he didn't shape up.

Harry saw little of Ron, though, who was still furious with him. He was ok with that. Ron was, in Harry's mind, merely jealous of Harry's and Hermione's newfound relationship, given that Harry rejected the red head. Although Ron was angry with Harry, he wasn't angry with Hermione and the two could be seen together when she wasn't spending time helping her other friend.

Even though Harry was spending a lot of time making up homework, enhancing his casting skills and building a lost friendship, he made sure to leave his nights free. With his nights unoccupied, Harry hoped Draco would ask for a late night meeting. Yet Draco didn't. The blonde boy was still ignoring Harry. Part of him was starting to worry, thinking that he was dull and uninteresting; the other part of him was livid. Just because he was Draco bloody Malfoy didn't mean that he could toy with Harry's emotions. What happened to the boy Draco was attracted to? What happened to the almost kiss? It was, once again, driving Harry severely senseless.

Hermione, as witty and aware as she was, couldn't help Harry. She knew no more about Draco than what the rest of the school knew; he was callous and vengeful. For all she knew, Harry had seen the widest range of feeling ever identified from Draco. This excited Harry, for a moment. Then he realized that it didn't matter; he still had not seen the blonde boy for over a week. He hated how Draco could invoke such emotions.

"Ugh, what does it matter?" Harry pouted, laying his head back against the maroon arm chair next to Hermione. "I might as well give up. Obviously he doesn't care, why should I?"

Sternly, Hermione replied, "Oh Harry. You don't know that. He could be busy or maybe he has taken ill."

Sighing, Harry rolled his eyes. "Draco Malfoy, ill? That would mean that the sun has frozen over." He looked outside the common room's large windows and gestured toward the world outside. "But since it hasn't, it is highly unlikely."

"Don't be so discouraged."

"I'm not. I'm done."

"Done with what?"

"I am done worrying and being angry and hopeful. I wash my clothes of it. There is only one thing I feel."

"And that is?"

"Hate. And the fact that he can kiss my untanned ass."

"Watch your language!" Hermione scolded, sounding much too alike to Mrs. Weasley's unyielding demands for Harry to feel satisfied with his word choice. Harry quickly mumbled an apology, shying away from Hermione's eyes in fear of the vice located there.

"I think I am going to go for a walk while it's still light out," Harry declared, not wanting Hermione to scold him again.

"Ok, do you want company?" she asked oblivious to Harry's intentions.

"No, but thanks. Just need to rid myself of some feeling."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "Just don't stay out too long. It will be curfew in a few hours and you are already on a narrow ledge with all of the professors."

Saluting his friend and acknowledging the rules set before him, Harry ambled out of the common room. He roamed the nearly vacant halls, unaware of where his feet were leading him. When Harry came upon an open room, desolate except for a large painting of a bowl of fruit, he realized that his feet had taken him to the Kitchens where the Hogwart's House Elves worked.

An unexpected grumble escaped Harry's stomach. Skipping dinner, both Hermione and himself had nestled themselves in the chairs by the fire in order to conquer his ever colossal pile of homework. Before Harry could tickle the pear to enter the Kitchen and "steal" a bag full of food, the portrait opened and out stepped a tall, blonde boy with silver-grey eyes.

Gasping, Harry exclaimed, startling the blonde who dropped an armful of goods.

"What the hell, Potter?" Draco Malfoy calmly requested. "Are you trying to instruct everyone of our presence?"

"No," Harry explicated, "Thought I was alone, that's all."

"Well next time, don't assume," he drawled, bending over to pick up his smashed food.

Leaning over, Harry helped Draco. It felt like things hadn't changed between them at all; that they were still enemies. Was it possible? Could the flame between the two boys been extinguished so easily? "Why didn't I see you all week?" he ventured.

This time, a sneer lit the Slytherin's face. "Figured I would let you mull over our last meeting. Make your skin crawl a little."

"Bastard," blurted Harry.

"What? I can't have a little fun? You sure did when you…changed."

"I did it to please you," he awkwardly enlightened the other boy.

Draco leaned closer, whispering in Harry's ear, "Let me make it up to you. Let me please you."

Closing the distance between them, Draco tilted his face towards Harry's. His lips parted slowly as they touched the raven haired boys'. Slightly taken aback, Harry took a moment to jump back to the reality of the moment. When he secured his thoughts, Harry delicately kissed the smooth lips on his. He tasted the sun's rays, the wind's flavor, a sensational bliss. It was like no kiss he ever had.

So much for hating Draco, Harry thought to himself, lightly touching his fingers to his kissed lips as the indulgence ended and he stared into the twinkling silver orbs of his so-called-enemy.

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A/N: (again) Hey, just to let you know I am only going to be updating once a week. As my readers from Rest of Our Lives know I have time constraints and I can't write as much as I would love to. So, I will only update once a week. Sorry if you are sad, but this is way better than quiting. Thanks guys! You rock! 


	13. Sandstorm

Tenderness in a Poem

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN- SANDSTORM**

The next morning Harry awoke with smile pasted to his face. Last night Draco had kissed him. The Slytherin, who never was the first, kissed him, Harry James Potter. He was delighted and one could even say giddy. Would things be ever changed between him and Draco? Were they now dating? The other hadn't asked him nor had they had any dates, if you didn't count the secret late night meetings in the school library. Maybe now was his chance to be bold and brave. He was going to ask Draco out, that was final. 

At breakfast, Harry's mind was far from his body. So far, he hadn't thought of anything except the kiss. That boy knew how to kiss the pants off of someone, that was certain. Harry wondered if Draco's mind was on the same thing. He looked towards the Slytherin table and found grey eyes staring back. Twisting in excitement, he squirmed. Merlin how he loved those eyes. Deep and more open than the blonde knew.

"I'll be right back," Harry whispered to Hermione, grinning maliciously. He pushed away from the breakfast table and hoped Draco might catch on.

Outside the Great Hall, Harry impatiently waited. He tapped his foot eagerly on the stone floor to the tune of "Queen Me" by the Weird Sisters. After ten minutes Harry was about to give up when a body exited the dining area; thankfully it was Draco.

"What took you so long?" Harry worried.

"Had to make sure no one knew I was following you," Draco drawled as he casually leaned against the wall.

Anger flared. "You still care about your rep? After last night?"

Draco shrugged. "What about last night?"

Anger became rage. "We kissed! _You _kissed _me_! Doesn't that mean anything?"

Again Draco shrugged. "It's just a kiss, Potter."

"I thought there was something between us," Harry began, sadness creeping underneath the rage that roared in his head. "Those nights in the Library and then the kiss. Were you just playing me?"

"No," the blonde's eyes saddened. "But it was just a kiss. Not like we are dating or anything. But hey, if you want some more 'alone' time, look me up." He turned and walked away from the confused raven in the direction of the dungeons. At the end of the hall a smaller blonde boy came around the corner and smiled at Draco. Draco wrapped his arm around the smaller boy and they slinked into a side room.

Unexpectedly, it was hard for Harry to breathe. His lungs hitched and his brain clouded. A pattern of spots erupted before Harry's unseeing eyes. Why was Draco doing this to him? Draco was purposely teasing and hurting him. Sitting against the wall and trying to gain his senses, he felt a hand on his arm.

"Harry?" a muffled voice questioned. "Harry, can you hear me? Please say something."

"He doesn't care," he finally spit out.

"Who doesn't care? What happened?"

Finally the spots vanished and Harry saw Hermione kneeling at his side. "Draco."

"Did he say no when you asked him out, because that doesn't mean he doesn't like you or want to be with you," she consoled, helping her friend off the cold floor.

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't ask him." Through a few shaky breaths Harry relinquished the questionable scene.

"How rude," Hermione angrily shouted when the two were back in the dorm rooms having skipped their first classes. "I am going to give him a piece of my wand! How dare he!" 

Before the bushy haired girl could storm out of the room, Harry grabbed her arm. "Please don't. It won't help. Maybe he needs time."

"Harry, don't be reflective, that is my job," she joked, failing to lighten the mood.

"I'm going to take a nap now," he sluggishly rose. How could he hurt so badly after such a simple thing? Maybe it was just a kiss. Who was he to blow it out of proportion?


	14. Portraits

A/N: Sorry this wasn't up yesterday! First day back from Spring Break and I didn't have as many things as I needed done. Again, deeply sorry but now it is up!!

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Tenderness in a Poem

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN- PORTRAITS**

After Harry's nap, a plan had arisen from the depths of his dreams. He was going to get back at Draco; he wasn't going to take his shit. If the blonde wanted to play the hard way, he would play just as hard. It was as if he had gone to bed weak and incapable and instead woken with superhuman powers. What a rush, to know something was finally going to take place, that he wasn't going to be a victim for once.

At breakfast, Harry rushed and sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione. While eating a bowl of cinnamon flavored oatmeal he explained his plan of revenge and humiliation. "It is fail proof, I think, but will it work on Draco?"

Hermione scrutinized over it for a minute or two. "Possibly, but I know less about Malfoy than you do so I'm not really the best person to ask. Sorry, Harry. I am glad you are taking a stand for yourself. Shows you have really grown."

Pointing his spoon toward the other side of the Hall, Harry said, "Look, there he goes. I think I'll pay him a little visit and give him a little retribution," he sneered and pushed away from the table. Quickly, before the other boy could get too far, Harry exited the noisy Hall. At the far end, near the dungeon entrance, Draco was also quickly walking.

'Where are you going?' Harry thought to himself, intrigued and drawn by the odd behavior exhibited.

From a lengthy distance, Harry quietly followed Draco to a portrait of an ugly, wart faced woman with deep purple hair. The blonde whispered what sounded like Latin and the portrait swung open. Draco stepped inside, the portrait closing behind his fading footsteps.

'Crap,' Harry figured as he sidled over to the now blocked off corridor or room; what was behind it he didn't know. Why would Draco go to such a secret place? Maybe the Marauder's Map would be able to tell him what was behind the woman.

Racing through the hushed hallways and dodging Peeves' waterfall, Harry made it to the Gryffindor common room in record time. He had to lean against the wall for support since he had a stitch in his right side from running so hard and fast. Upon entering the common room, he noted it was empty and still, everyone was in class, which meant Harry was missing his first class as well. Later he would need to get the notes from Hermione, if he remembered. Underneath Harry's items in his trunk lay the map from which his times of trouble truly began.

Back at the portrait of the ugly woman, Harry opened the old piece of parchment, making sure no one was around.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered and tapped the parchment, creating a spreading web of ink. Searching the map corner to corner Harry found no place to mark what was beyond the portrait. This was obviously something either only Slytherins knew about or only Draco knew about. Either way, Harry was not in the know.

"Damnit," he swore and kicked the portrait, a small throb emanating from his big toe.

"How dare you kick me! Do you have no respect?" a high pitched crackle asked.

"Excuse me?" Harry questioned the woman, whose features were contorted in anger.

"Are you deaf as well, boy?"

Harry shook his head.

"Go away brat."

He shook his head again, "I need to go through your portrait."

A mirthless laugh rang through the empty corridor. "That won't be happening anytime soon unless you are aware of the password."

"I don't have it," he thought out loud, trying to win her trust as he thought on his feet, "but my friend Draco Malfoy was supposed to wait for me. The git didn't, and he wouldn't tell me the password."

She eyed him up, taking in his appearance. "I suppose that any friend of Draco is a friend of mine; you may pass." Her portrait swung open , allowing Harry entrance to a long and dim corridor.


	15. The Secret

Tenderness in a Poem

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN-THE SECRET**

The portrait suddenly closed behind Harry, enveloping him in complete darkness. He stood for a minute to allow his eyes to adjust to the shadows, unwilling to give himself away with the light of his wand. As his eyes modified to the corridor, shadows swelled into being. On his right was a bust of a man, his face distorted in anger. On the other side was another corridor perpendicular to the one Harry stood in. How many corridors could there be? And which one did Draco take?

Quietly, a shuffling dawned from somewhere to Harry's left, except there was no corridor on the left. Maybe there was a door that led to a room. Searching the walls with his hands, Harry finally felt a door knob. The door creaked from misuse as he pushed it open, giving away his position.

"Stupefy!" Harry was blasted from the room, the door saving him from the majority of the spell. He scrambled up as a light shone on him. "Potter? What the fuck are you doing in here? Let alone how did you get in?"

"I followed you and the witch let me it."

"Son-of-a-bitch," the tall blonde swore. "Did you give her the password?"

Shaking his head, he answered, "She thinks I'm your friend."

"Damn it, Potter! Why are you following me?" Draco walked back into the room he had just come out of.

"Because I can," Harry followed the blonde into the room, furnished with a moldy loveseat and two large un-puffed chairs. The walls were bleak and housed racks of already lit torches. It looked as if it had been made for lovers but had long been out of use.

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm not. You looked like you were up to something and I followed. How come I have never heard of this passage before?"

"Salazar Slytherin built it when he and the other house founders created Hogwarts," Draco explained, moving the small loveseat, creating the same shuffling sound Harry had heard moments before. "It was a place he could be alone and not be found. After Hogwarts opened he told his closest colleague. Every generation since then the secret has been passed on. And no, you will never be allowed back in here."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Who says I want to come back?"

"Please, Potter, I know your curious."

"Fine, but that still doesn't answer why you are in here or how."

"I told you. He told the password to his closest colleague, Ovidius Luther Malfoy. And I have people I don't want to talk to, including you."

"Why?"

"Because you annoy me!" he grunted, shifting the couch against the wall, leaving small scuffs on the stone floor. Draco lifted the decrepit rug that was under the loveseat and exclaimed. A small outline of a trapdoor could faintly be seen in the floor.

"What is that?"

"The greatest thing this castle has," Draco opened the trapdoor and shoved his hand inside the small square hole. "Or not." His hand came up empty. "The diary of Salazar Slytherin was supposed to be in here. Someone must have found it before me."

Nodding Harry remained silent.

"Why did you follow me, Potter?"

"I told you."

"You told me half of it."

He shifted. "I wanted to get revenge."

"For what I said earlier?"

Harry nodded. "You can't just talk to people like they mean nothing. You aren't a god."

"I know," Draco looked at the cold floor then back up at Harry. "But I didn't mean any of it."

"Don't lie to me, I'm tired of you toying with me. I have feelings."

"I know, but hear me out," the blonde sat on the moldy loveseat. "Shane McDoogal saw us kissing that night so I had to tell him it was a joke and that I wanted to hurt you. I can't have everyone know."

"Screw your reputation. Did you shag him?"

Draco shook his head. "We just snogged. I made an excuse to leave."

Harry bobbed his head. "Oh."

"Harry-," Draco stammered.

"Just drop it," Harry sat on the seat beside Draco and quickly leaned in to kiss the boy's lips. "Next time can you be less crude?"

"Deal," Draco smiled and nipped at Harry's bottom lip, a sensual feeling erupting in Harry's stomach. Lovers they would be.


	16. Lust

Tenderness in a Poem

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN-LUST**

Harry was still upset Draco had so easily pushed him aside and had made out with another boy, but what could he do? Be mad and sulk. That was all. So it was either let it go or be Draco's emotional bitch dog. Harry chose the latter because it didn't pay.

"Harry?" Draco's smooth voice broke the Library's silence.

"Yea?" Harry jumped from his reverie.

"Do you agree?"

"O, yup, for sure."

Draco shook his head, his blonde hair moving with it. "What's up?"

"Nothing," the raven lied.

"Lies. You just agreed that you secretly want to become a woman. Unless I just read your deepest thoughts, you aren't paying any attention."

Harry sighed. "It's nothing, I was just thinking."

Shifting, Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's lower body, pulling the boy into him. "Are you still on about what I did the other day?"

Not meeting Draco's silver eyes Harry nodded.

"I tried to tell you I was sorry. Don't you believe me?" Draco soothed.

"I don't know, you just so easily lied to my face and then brushed it off."

The blonde's fingers touched Harry's chin as they lifted his face to his hardened eyes. "I may have brushed it off but it doesn't mean I am lying to you. Don't assume that. You don't me well enough yet."

Harry's face crumpled.

"But you will."

Leaning in, Draco touched his warm lips to Harry's whose lips went from limp to roving. He loved the kisses they shared, even if they were secret and in the dark. It was better to have Draco to himself anyways because he didn't need the pressure from others. Secrets were good, weren't they? Harry leaned in a little farther, trying to drink in as much of the Slytherin's warmth and giving as he could. All other thoughts drained from his mind as Draco's tongue poked inside Harry's mouth. For a moment Harry almost pulled away, shocked they were going so fast, instead he welcomed the slick tongue and gave back what he could.

When the tongue lock ended, Harry's face was slightly flushed. Yet Draco's was as pale as ever. Obviously the other had many lessons in that area. Especially with Shane McDoogal. Especially not with him. How easy it was for the same thoughts to rush back, the flood gates broken and irreparable. Harry just shook his head and tried to live in the moment, and that moment was with Draco.

"So you and Granger are together a lot. What happened to Weasel?" Draco started as he split from Harry.

"Can't you at least call her Hermione?"

"What about Weasel?"

"I don't really much care what you call him," Harry grumbled.

"Oh?" his blonde eyebrow arched in question. "Not on good grounds with him?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well what happened?"

"Long chapter short: he gave up on me, I don't want his friendship."

Draco shrugged, "Ok, I can't change your mind."

"You did more than you think," Harry grinned with desire.


	17. Cold Feet

A/N: Sorry this is once again late. I have less than 4 weeks of class left and so the professors are pilling on the homework and papers. Plus i will have to start studying soon, becasue in college, there is a hell of a lot more material given. Again, so sorry and I hope you enjoy.

Tenderness in a Poem

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN-COLD FEET**

**_Draco's POV_**

Blood slowly dripped from the cold pale fingers, drip drip, into an ever enlarging coagulated pool. The hand that had been shaking with anxiety only minutes before lay against the bleached ebony tiles, motionless and slightly curled, as if regretting life's last decision. One arm was crossed against the stained black robes, vainly clutching the now unbeating heart. The heart ache, clearly written on his still face, had nearly broken the poor boy in two. It had been that which had pushed him to take his own breath away, like his lover had once done. The final detail on the lifeless body was one word, carved below the left slashed wrist written in Latin: Draconis.

With a tremble and a gasp, Draco Malfoy awoke in his curtained bed with a start, drenched through in a cold sweat. He had been dreaming of doing more than kissing Harry when it had flickered like an old movie into something so surreal, it still made his blood run cold: Harry dead because of him. Could it mean that the two enemies would fall in love and that he would break up with Harry? Or had he cheated on Harry which drove the raven haired Gryffindor to take his own life? Either side of the gruesome story was not good, and he didn't want to let it get that bad. Whether the dream was a prophecy of sorts or were the frightening truths Draco feared, he was going to stifle them and the blossoming relationship.

Since he was already fully awake, Draco noiselessly slid out of bed and headed for the bathrooms. There, he undressed and took a hot shower to try and rinse off the horrible dread he still felt. Instead he fogged the mirrors on the walls with the cold still beneath his skin like crank bugs, unable to be calmed. Seeing that breakfast was now in session, he quickly dressed; maybe food would still the bugs.

Yet after Draco had tried everything on the table, the waves crashing inside his confused mind did not cease. Even the cruel laughter surrounding the Slytherin table, that once pricked his interest, did nothing but annoy his jittery nerves. With a loud bang, he slammed his fists on the wooden table. Around him, the laughter and gossip died.

"What's wrong, Dracie?" a slimy voice called from his right elbow. "Can I help you with anything?" Pansy Parkinson maliciously smiled.

"No," Draco grumbled and swatted at the repulsive girl.

"Aw," she pouted, beginning to rub Draco's shoulders. "But you have such tense shoulders."

"Get off me you hag!" the blonde shouted and pushed away from the table. By this time the whole hall had witnessed the boy in a very foul mood, especially Harry Potter who had been watching since Draco entered the room. When the blonde Slytherin had angrily exited the flabbergasted room, the raven Gryffindor followed, anticipating that he could qualm the other's nerves. This was not the case.

"Just leave me be, Potter," Draco nonchalantly shrugged off Harry's hand. "I don't want to talk with you."

Harry's faced crumpled in confusion. "What happened?"

"It's nothing."

"Obviously it isn't. Was it something I did?"

Draco exhaled loudly. "Can't you take a hint, Potter? I'm breaking up with you."

"That makes no sense! Where did you get all this from?"

"Me. I don't want to date. You can just keep on living and breathing now," the blonde pushed Harry and ran, putting behind him the pain emanating from his heart and the sinking feeling in his mind. Now he could properly breathe and not have to worry about the future. It was free, and alive.

But when Draco arrived back in his dorm room, for he had decided to skip Potions since it was with the Gryffindors, he felt nothing like he thought he would. He wasn't free, more like racked with guilt for having been so abrupt, and he definitely wasn't feeling alive, more like deadened, cold. Was this how Harry felt? No, the raven probably felt worse. It was bad enough that just a week ago he had cheated on the boy and said everything was going to be alright, but now it wasn't. At least Harry would be alive tomorrow, whether he felt dead or not was a different image Draco did not want to picture.

Draco sunk himself into his unappealing four poster bed and forced his head into the white pillow. He screamed into to let out his frustration but soon realized it didn't do much; he still felt everything he had moments before. Throwing the pillow across the room a piece of paper ripped from a larger sheet fluttered to the floor next to the bed. Picking it up, Draco realized it was the poem he had fallen over.

Silently he read, " '_All that I know is I'm breathing, breathing in a toxic dust that kills the nerves, eats away at the soul, I'm breathing in fumes contaminated with words that haunt my dreams, fill my brimming head with nonsense, and all I know is I'm still breathing.' "_ He was breathing, but he wasn't feeling. What had he done? Was it selfishness that made him breakup with Harry? Because he was afraid to get close to anyone. Or was he really trying to save the other boy? One way or another, the ramifications of this were going to be significant.


	18. Ramifications

Tenderness in a Poem

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN-RAMIFICATIONS**

**Draco's POV continued**

Days after the ugly breakup with Harry, Draco was to be found skirting the raven haired boy. He didn't want to see the look on the other's face, that of devastation and injustice, because Draco knew what he had done was uncalled for. It had haunted his dreams of late and kept him up half the night. Yet there was nothing to make of it now, what was done was just that, done and over. There was no turning back.

In the hall, running late for class for the umpteenth time, the blonde Slytherin, dishelmed and losing his belongings as he hustled to class, tripped. Books spewed across the empty corridor as bottles of ink crashed to the floor, black streaming like lazy rivers to a pair of spattered robes.

"Need some help?" Hermione Granger meekly asked, siphoning the ink off herself.

Draco took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Thanks." No matter if he and Harry were broken up, he had made a resolution to at least try and be civil with his one friend, it was the least the boy could do.

As the two silently worked together, Draco noticed the Gryffindor's eyes were red and swollen, like she had spent hours crying, something Draco wished he could do, but it was something he had rid himself of years ago. When the books and empty ink bottles were back in the blonde's bag, he stepped outside his circle of comfort and invited Hermione to tell why she had been crying.

The Gryffindor shook her head. "It's nothing."

"From experience," Draco ventured, "I know Gryffindors like to lie when faced with difficulties."

Hermione peered at the supposed enemy, "Have you seen Harry by chance?"

"No."

"Well, he said some really horrible things this morning and when I went to talk to him later I couldn't find him. With everything that has gone on this year I think this pushed him too far," she broke off, expecting the worst.

Draco was on alert. He knew Harry's past was edged with pain and loss, it was written on the raven's face. Could what Draco had pictured actually come true? He prayed to Merlin it hadn't. "Well, since I'm already late for class, as are you, I can held you look for him. He must be here somewhere."

"Thanks," Hermione sniffled. "I'll take the first and second floors, you can take the third and fourth. If we don't find him by then, we'll…" she trailed off.

"We'll find him," Draco tried to reassure her even when the warning inside his head was on full alert.

Thoroughly Draco searched the corridors and doors of the third and fourth floors, finding nothing but everyone and everything besides Harry. The alert that was buzzing in his mind was now a constant drone. Something was wrong. Forgetting that he was to meet with Hermione at the first floor staircase, Draco began to search the fifth floor with even more excruciating detail than he had on the other two floors. There were only so many floors in Hogwarts, Harry had to be somewhere.

Four doors to the left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered, Draco entered the Prefect's bathroom to find what he had dreaded: Blood slowly dripping from cold pale fingers into an ever enlarging coagulated pool. The hand that had been shaking with anxiety only minutes before lay against the bleached ebony tiles, motionless and slightly curled. One arm was crossed against the stained black robes, vainly clutching the now unbeating heart. It had been the heartache which had pushed him to take his own breath away. The final detail on the lifeless body was one word, carved below the left slashed wrist written in Latin: Draconis.

The breath was knocked from Draco's lungs. Red splashed his blurred vision as he clutched the Prefect's wall. It was true, it was all true. How? He broke it off so this same thing wouldn't happen. It was all a waste of space. As quickly as his weak knees could carry him, Draco hurried over to the lifeless body. The body was so small from lack of blood and ice cold. How was it possible that Draco had just kissed those warm lips and held onto the thin body. For the first time since Draco's earliest pet had died, a small tear fell from the silver orbs. Numbly, the blonde stood and walked away from the body, unaware of where he was headed to but aware he was leaving behind Death.

For what seemed like eternity, Draco roamed the halls, devoid of all feelings except the cold ebbing its way into his heart and mind.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Severus Snape angrily shouted a foot from Draco, "Just because you are my Godson does not give you permission to skip my class as if you owned this entire school."

Draco acknowledged no one.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Snape grabbed the Slytherin's shoulder. "What do you-"

"Dead," Draco unknowingly whispered.

"Speak up boy!"

"My fault."

Snape violently shook his pupil. "Draco!"

Silver orbs lit up, realization dawning.

"What are you babbling about?"

"He's dead."

"Who, Mr. Malfoy, and don't test my patience."

"Harry."


	19. Hurricanes

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER NINETEEN-HURRICANES**

**Draco's POV continued**

"_What are you babbling about?"_

"_He's dead."_

"_Who, Mr. Malfoy, and don't test my patience."_

"_Harry."_

"Where?"

Draco stood silently trying to remember where he had seen the boy, but his mind was a jumble, already trying to protect him from the moment. He remembered searching for the boy without Hermione, wanting to find him first to lessen the after affects. And then he found him…

"Where you blundering idiot?" Snape repeated, a mix of fury and worry dripping from every syllable.

"The-" Draco concentrated, willing his mind to work properly. In a rush, it flowed back to him in a clear picture. "The Prefect's bathroom."

Snape wasted no time in dealing with Draco and sprinted for the fifth floor, moving faster than he had ever before done. Draco, unnerved at the professor's movements, blindly followed to the scene of the crime. When he arrived, Snape was already taking Harry's pulse, careful not to tread in the puddle of blood. Once again, Draco relived his terrifying dream, his heart beating off key and his breathing erratic.

"You childish moron!" Snape spat, as he quickly did some wand work, the cuts on Harry's wrists magically sealing themselves. "He has a pulse! And you left him here to die!"

In a whirlwind that Draco later could not remember, Professor Snape conjured a floating board to support the nearly dead Gryffindor. While he had done that, he had also sent a red flash up the wall, which traveled the length of the wall and ceiling quicker than the speed of a howling wind, and vanished when it reached the opposing wall. Before Snape left the bathroom with Harry in front of him, he cast a stunning charm on Draco and then floated the Slytherin behind him to the Hospital Wing.

When Draco was revived, he was lying on his back looking up at a white ceiling, confused and dazed. The last thing he remembered was…

"Harry!" he shouted to no one and scrambled from his bed. A strong hand forced him back down.

"No sir, you have been ordered to stay here until Professor McGonagall arrives," Madam Pomfrey executed, unscrewing the top to a small vile filled with a viscous gray solution and scooping a spoonful into Draco's unwilling mouth. "She should be here shortly, until then, this will calm you."

Already Draco was feeling the stress lift off his shoulders as his body relaxed on the sterile bed. "But what about-"

"No," the nurse cut him off. "No more questions or answers; Professor McGonagall will be here in a moment's notice." She scurried away to the next cubicle which was divided by a clean, slightly see through cloth. Draco wondered if Harry was in the next bed, or if he was being prepared to be buried, dead upon arrival. What an idiot he had been; if Harry was surely dead, it was all his fault. He sighed and looked up to find a tight lipped Headmistress standing placidly.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy?" the Headmistress asked.

"What happened to Harry?"

"Please answer the question, Mr. Malfoy."

"I'd feel better if I knew what was going on," Draco crossly said.

McGonagall unpursed her lips and sat on the edge of Draco's bed. "There is no need for hostility, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter is in recovery, all thanks to Professor Snape's calm and level wisdom. I have heard his side of the story already, so all I need to hear is yours."

"I-" Draco started. "Harry and I-"

"It is none of my business what happens between two students that does not break the rules."

"How did you know?"

"Mr. Malfoy, you underestimate my knowledge," McGonagall stared deep into Draco's eyes. "Now continue your story."

For the next twenty minutes Draco retold the story of not only the finding of Harry's body but also the beginning and end of their relationship.

"It seems, Mr. Malfoy, that underneath it all, your feelings for Mr. Potter have been overwhelming. Maybe if you were to explain it all to a certain someone they would understand, and maybe you could share these feelings." With these last words, McGonagall wisely rose and swept silently from the Hospital Wing.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Draco called.

"Yes dear?" she appeared around the corner, a Muggle needle in her right hand.

"Is it alright if I see Harry?"

"If it were up to me, I would say no, but Professor McGonagall has specifically allowed you to visit him. However, if he gets upset in any manner possible, I will escort you out of the wing."

Eagerly, Draco slipped from his warm bed and followed Madam Pomfrey two cubicles down.


	20. Fog

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOG**

**Harry's POV**

Opening his weak eyes, Harry felt as if he were out of his body, he felt no pain but rather an unknown grogginess. He saw before him a bright, white light and thought to himself that he had died and, oddly enough, gone to Heaven. Yet, if this was Heaven, why was he hearing voices? Were spirits able to speak like ghosts could? Or was it things from his past. As his eyes focused upon the light, the voices, too, focused, pain and worry etched under their tone.

"Harry," a cool female's voice called. It was too close for it to be a spirit. Harry turned his head away from the light and realized he was not in fact dead, rather laying in a bed in the Hospital Wing. The voices that had been calling to him were those of Madame Pomfrey's and Draco Malfoy's. He suddenly wished he were dead.

"Harry," Madame Pomfrey repeated, "Mr. Malfoy wanted to check on you. I am going to leave you two be, if you need anything, let me know; I will be in my office."

Harry's throat was dry and scratchy as he tried to tell Draco he didn't want to talk. Draco understood and handed the raven a small glass half full with water. 'More like half empty,' Harry thought to himself, morbidity racing through his hazy mind.

Draco seemed very nervous as he stood over Harry, watching him drink. "How do you feel?" he finally asked.

"How do you think I feel?" Harry sarcastically replied, placing the now empty glass on the side table.

"Listen, I want to tell you-"

"What? That your sorry? Sorry doesn't really cut it at this point? Not to mention that when you have said sorry before, it has led to lies and deception. I can't trust what you have to say. I never really should have to begin with."

Pain creased Draco's unblemished face. "You don't mean that."

"I do. Now leave me alone. The only person I want to see is Hermione."

When Draco had left the Hospital Wing, Harry wondered if he really wanted the Slytherin to leave. Right now so many emotions were running through his head: anger, pain, betrayal, longing, sorrow, inquiry. It felt like his head was going to explode, spraying the white washed walls with tainted blood, that of one who had almost gone to Hell. Why had he thought he was in Heaven? It would be unfitting for such an end. Harry rubbed his temples with his right hand, lingering on the lightening bolt scar. What he wouldn't give to be anyone else. A sting ran up his arm, the medication he was receiving was wearing off; he would soon be able to feel it all, unclogging his mind for a little while.

The nurse walked by Harry's closed cubicle and came back with a cloth and a red bottle. "Give me your wrists; I need to re-bandage them after I put your medication on."

"I don't want it."

"Don't be stubborn, Mr. Potter. Your wrists are raw and that is presumably not a good feeling."

"I don't want the medication," his voice was rising.

"Fine," she glared at her patient. "Be bolshie, I obviously don't know what I am doing. I am just a Healer."

An angry voice then erupted, "Tell him he is better off not having visitors because he will be irritable when the medications wears off, but who am I to stop you from doing as you please? I am just a Healer." A door slammed to Harry's right.

"Did she take the wrong pills today?" Hermione lightly joked as she eyed Harry's pale frame.

Harry gave a weak smile. "I'm guessing you found Malfoy."

"Yes," Hermione sat next to Harry. "And he was upset. What happened?"

"I told him to wanker off. I can't trust what he has to say."

"He does care for you, Harry, no matter what you may think."

Harry was skeptical. "He shows it in funny way."

"It's because he probably is confused, much as you are. He is the one who found you. He saved your life. If he didn't care, he would have let you die instead of telling Professor Snape."

"Snape brought me back here?" Disbelief in his voice.

"Yes, McGonagall called me to her office right after she had talked to Snape. Draco doesn't remember any of it I guess. Do you believe me now?"

"I believe you, but I don't believe him."


	21. Revelations

-1**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE- REVELATIONS**

For three days Harry was annoyingly cooped up in the Hospital Wing with only his school work to keep him occupied during the long days. Whenever Madame Pince came to give him his medications, he put up a hefty fight to get out, yet it did no good. She had strict orders from McGonagall to keep him in bed until his wrists were fully healed and his blood count back to normal. That day was soon approaching though because his wrists were only tinged pink as if raw from the bandage.

While he was in the Wing, Harry thought about his life. It was full of let downs, heartache and surprising realizations. What was worse was not that he had once again trusted but that he had once again been hurt. It was depressing to think about it but no matter how hard he concentrated, his mind drifted as if it were out at sea. Thoughts of Draco Malfoy and other attractive boys filled the tiny crevices in his brain. Who had the stead-fast blonde left him for? Was he another Slytherin, bad to the blood like him? Or some naïve Hufflepuff who finally got the gold trophy? It was the only explanation Harry could come up with because otherwise it made no sense.

Finally, the day came when Harry was allowed to leave the now sickly white Hospital Wing. He felt relieved and free, unhindered by the claustrophobic walls. Hermione had offered to aid him to the Gryffindor common room; Harry turned her down, wanting to do it on his own. As he was rising up the stairs, a figure started to descend and then stopped.

"Oh, hi." It was Ron, pale and red headed as usual, but lankier, as if he had lost weight.

Harry grunted, unsure of what to say. He had not seen or talked to his ex-best friend in months. A thick and awkward silence fell between the distant boys before Ron moved over and Harry continued up the stairs. When he was at the final step, he looked back, noting Ron had not moved. The boy was rigid, glued between two steps. Harry almost started back down the stairs but then he remembered they weren't friends.

"Harry?" a weak voice came from the rigid Gryffindor. Harry thought he was hearing things and continued. "Harry." This time it was louder but still weak; it made him turn. Facing towards him, Ron opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was obviously struggling with inner demons, or maybe just himself. For a minute Harry said nothing nor did anything. Then, Ron opened his mouth and ultimately changed his future:

"I'm sorry," he took a shaky breath and continued. "I was never there when you really needed someone not because I didn't want to be there, but because I didn't know how. Growing up with six brothers and sisters has its downsides yet never like what you went through. If anything difficult happened it was my parents who solved the problems. You don't have that and I couldn't offer that." He paused and gulped for air. "When Hermione told me you were in the Hospital Wing I thought I was never going to be able to forgive myself." Again he paused.

"So you felt guilty?" Harry asked, astonished.

Ron nodded. "But that isn't all. School hasn't been as great without you."

"So you are selfish?"

"What? No. I missed you."

"So you want me back around because you missed me?"

Ron nodded.

"So you don't care what I want?"

"No!" Ron's voice cracked. "This isn't coming out like I wanted."

"Ron-"

"I just wanted to tell you I was sorry and that-"

"Ron-"

"I'm trying and all I get-"

"Ron!" Harry jabbed. "Stop talking." The red head looked crushed. "You don't have to say anymore. I understand what you are trying to say. You're sorry, and I'm sorry. You want to be forgiven, and you're forgiven."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Just like that?"

"Yea. When I was in lock down mode I thought about everything and we have been through too much to just drop our friendship. I think that life is too full of mishaps to let it all get to you. I'd really like it ifwe could start over, in a way."

"Let's just erase these past few months; I don't want to have to reface Fluffy, a basalisk, a werewolf and a mad-man as well as a team of Death Eaters. Deal?"

Harry smiled. "You got it. So where are you headed?"

"I was actually coming down to visit you."

"Thanks, Ron, but you're a little late," Harry openly laughed, feeling as if ten years had just been lifted off his burdened shoulders.


	22. Breakups & Wakeups

**Tenderness in a Poem**

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO-BREAKUPS AND WAKEUPS**

The day after Harry had been released from the Hospital Wing was the best day he had had in quite some time. Sure, things were awkward to begin with, especially with his fixed relationship with Ron, but the two boys soon fell into step together like nothing had happened. Harry also did not have to attend class, thanks to McGonagall, because he needed a day to catch up on the homework he let pile up. It had been such a good day that once it was over, Harry felt depressed. Tomorrow would be the day he went back to class, the day he would have to face the rumors, the day when he looked Draco Malfoy in the eyes and told him good bye.

When Harry awoke that morning of the breakup, he knew in his mind that he would have to continue with it, no matter how much his heart ached. He knew this because he not only ached for the blonde, but from the blonde. How could he be with someone who lied and cheated and then out of the wind broke it off? He couldn't.

"'Mione?" Harry asked a brunette sitting by the fire place. Instead a rather small fourth year turned to face him.

"Names Liza. Glad you know who I am," she sarcastically replied as she turned around. Even though Harry knew Draco had no siblings, the girl reminded him of the blonde. It was disheartening.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled and continued to the Great Hall where he found Hermione and Ron awaiting his arrival at the Gryffindor table, a sit between them unoccupied.

"You better eat, mate, before you do the dirty," Ron stated before he dug into his flavored oat bran.

"Are you really certain you want to go through with this, Harry? I don't want you to regret it," Hermione sympathized.

Harry sat for a moment and grunted. "I know what I am doing."

"Well, if you want to get it over with," Hermione continued, "There goes your opportunity." Her finger was aimed at the retreating Slytherin.

"Go get 'em," Ron tried for humor but failed.

Unnoticed, Harry followed Draco out of the Great Hall and down the same corridors that led to the purple haired woman's portrait. There, Draco entered the portrait clearly not looking around before doing so for Harry heard the password.

"Sly," he stated to the snobbish woman. She opened her secret door and Harry found himself in the dark hallway. He remembered that the first door on the right was where he had found Draco last time. Inside the room though, was nothing more than a worn loveseat. Continuing down the corridor, Harry tried the next door on the right. Again nothing. For nearly five minutes the raven tried every door on the right before trying the doors on the left side of the corridor. Finally, the third door led him to Draco, unawares.

"I told her not to let you in next time," Draco grumbled.

"She had to, I knew the password, you dolt."

"Great. So what do you want?"

"To tell you that whatever game you think you're winning is over. I want out of everything. You and me are nothing more than memories." Turning, Harry made for the door handle, ignoring the lifeless boy, and walking away.

Through three painfully boring classes Harry ignored everything that told him he was wrong, even Hermione who was normally spot on. When the day ended his gut still told him he wanted Draco's body close to him, and when he ran into the blonde with another raven haired boy, he knew he wanted it more than anything else.

"Watch where you're going, Rotter," Draco smirked, holding the slightly shorter boys hand.

"Shut up."

"Great comeback. Did it take you all day to think up?" The other brunette was beside himself.

Suddenly, Harry felt like crying. It was all he could do to hold it in. "Just leave me alone." He ran. Quickly and quietly. Away from the pain he was feeling: the betrayal, the anger, the hopelessness. He ran in circles until even he felt lost. That was when he bumped into Draco, again.

"Merlin, you're like a parasite," Draco sneered, tucking in his shirt. Obviously he had just come from a shag in the local closet or empty classroom. How typical.

"Then you must be dragon shit!"

Draco glared. "What is it you want, Potter? You broke it off with me, remember? Am I supposed to wait until you decide when I can move on?"

"No, I just thought it would be longer than a day."

"Then you picked the wrong person to break up with."

"I had no choice!"

"You always have a fucking choice. Spare me."

"Fine, you gave me no choice!" Harry yelled, not afraid if someone overheard them.

Draco paused, biting the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, before either of them could think, he grabbed Harry's head and pulled him forward. He violently kissed the astounded Gryffindor until neither of them could go any longer without air. They came up shaking and confused.

"I'm sorry," fumbled Draco as he backed away.

"I'd be lying if I told you I didn't want that. But it doesn't take back-" Harry's mouth was again in a lip lock with the blonde's as both teens tried to drown their fears and worries. Nothing could have been sweeter.

"Can we start all over?" Draco asked as he ended the passionate kiss and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "We didn't start off on the right wand and so many things went awry."

"I should say no," Harry began watching Draco's face drop. "but I'd rather say yes."

That was the day Harry's life turned completely around. He went from an abysmal and depressed teen to a regular Wizard. It was as if he was a new being, and Draco helped him along the way. The blonde teen made him feel as if the past was the past and the future was a beautiful thing. It was something Harry treasured and came to love in the other. There were tough days, as there always will be, but with Draco by his side, Harry learned to shrug it off and continue. That was the way the way Harry's seventh and final year ended at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

**THE END**

A/N: I want to thank all of you for sticking with me throughout the process of this ficlet and giving me the encouragment I needed. I owe everything to my faithful readers and new ones to come. You have kept my story alive and I look forward to seeing you elsewhere! I know this was a sudden ending, but I found it fit. Thanks again and if there is a sequel, which is undetermined as of yet, I will let all of you know!! -TrulyTheOne-

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